


An Ode to Persephone

by equinoctial



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Eventual Happy Ending, GoL ages used here, M/M, Yuesing and Asheiji are playing cops and robbers but they both aint cops, where in the world is Eiji Okumura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-15 22:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17537684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equinoctial/pseuds/equinoctial
Summary: BUDAPEST, HUNGARY“Lynx and Okumura are en route to Vienna via freight train, with another twenty million and more incriminating information stolen from Croatian syndicates,” Yut Lung lazily sprawled over him like a large cat, his hair fanning out on Sing’s bare chest as he typed into his laptop on the side. “It's like your modern day Bonnie and Clyde. Kings of the underworld.”“I wouldn't be so sure,” Sing scrutinised the photo on Yut Lung’s screen, his cigarette smoke blurring Okumura’s fearful expression, his mind replaying the way Lynx had cried out his name. “Remember Athens? In Tartarus we had a standoff. Half a second in, I realised Okumura still had the safetyon.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I watched spy movie stuff on the plane and this ended up happening whoops

**NEW YORK, USA**

 

Sing hated their main headquarters in Brooklyn-- corridors cold, underground passages way too narrow for his size, and the people here were extremely anal about their work, always shouting frantically about one thing or another. And yet, despite his large stature blocking up most of their path, not one soul grumbled about his presence, opting to quietly shuffle along the sides to reach their destination, ignoring the sudden roadblock.

 

They pointedly avoided him, more like.

 

 _Eh, whatever._ Sing sneezed, cursing the frigid underground air once more. The avoidance came with the territory-- most folks wouldn’t want a mercenary taking an interest in them after all.

 

But he couldn’t help thinking back to the Chinatown outpost he usually reported to. Chang Dai actually had people he could vibe with, and the boss was actually a pretty cool guy. Sure, Shorter Wong was unorthodox in taking the time to personally know his agents-- especially considering the nature of their business-- but if there were such thing as a group of loyal spies, they were the closest thing.

 

And so, when the big brass specifically summoned him to their giant underground lair without consulting Shorter first, the alarm bells in his head started going off. He could only think of two reasons why they might have bypassed Shorter to drag him here.

 

One, was that they wanted him to dispose of Shorter or one of their Chinatown crew. And if so, Lee Wang Lung can join his father in the afterlife. He held no love for the Lees-- them rich elitist assholes could kiss his ass for all he cared. If it weren’t for Shorter, he and the gang would have left the organisation ages ago.

 

Two, was that they wanted him to off one of Shorter’s other agent friends. That itself already posed a problem, because all of Shorter’s pals were _absolute nutjobs_ \-- veteran agents who were the top of their game. Now, he was in no way a green horn in the field, and was pretty confident in his skills, but he knew when to pick his battles.

 

Depending on who he got, he might just actually get killed.

 

\--

 

“Your target is Eiji Okumura. Third in line from the Tachibana clan in Kansai, Japan. We’ve got a huge business deal with the heir, and with the current head slowly succumbing to his liver disease, we can’t afford any disruptions.”

 

Sing blinked owlishly at the manila folder in his hands, where wide brown eyes on crisp white paper stared back. The file said he was almost twenty eight, but the target barely looked twenty with his fluffy hair and baby fat still clinging to his cheeks. To be entirely honest, Eiji Okumura looked like the type to apologise after bumping into a table-- but he knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

 

The most mysterious bit was that he looked incredibly familiar; he just couldn’t figure out why.

 

“He was last seen at JFK airport two days ago. This one is an immediate kill on sight,” Wang Lung gave his cigarette one last puff before he snuffed out, the smoke leaving the sterling silver ashtray in wisps.

 

“It doesn’t have to be clean. In fact, feel free to use your imagination. Our business partner would love to send a clear message to the second-in-line with regards to his intentions-- unless of course, he's managed to reach Japan. Then you have to make it look like an accident. They've got to keep up appearances after all.”

 

“First off,” Sing flipped a page, the photo of Okumura rushing through the airport printed at the top-- he looked like a lost child. “The Japanese underworld only recognises ancient old geezers as clan heads. He's about half a century too early.”

 

“Secondly, money reigns supreme for you guys,” Sing leaned back into the plush chair, the folder nonchalantly chucked back onto the mahogany desk, the papers within skidding out of place. “You wouldn't pay my usual commission to off insignificant small fry. You're clearly withholding some information from me here.”

 

“Clever. No wonder you're the top agent in your sector-- after Shorter of course.”

 

Goddammit he's not here to play mind games. Sing sighed. “The more information I have, the faster I get the job done.”

 

“Okumura himself is actually not the main problem. However, taking him out is the easiest solution.”

 

“What’s the main problem then?”

 

“Unfortunately, he’s somehow hired a troublesome bodyguard-- a top agent gone rogue,” Wang Lung retorted.

 

 _Ah_. There it was. This was the catch.

 

“He’s not only stolen a hundred and fifty million from several offshore accounts, but also downloaded confidential information from our servers that could easily be sold to the wrong people,” the older man added, one hand plucking another cigarette from his packet, the other using his lighter with a deafening click. The way the small flame emphasised the long shadows of his face spelled something ominous, nefarious.

 

“We highly suspect that this is per Okumura’s request. The money and information theft is regretful but the main issue is the kind of power Okumura has over the rogue agent. His disposal is your first priority, the money and information secondary. Considering the delicate situation, I'll even be appointing my own little brother as your quartermaster for this case.”

 

 _Ugh, a fucking supervisor. Fine, whatever._ Sing grumbled. This better be a quick job.

 

“Who's the hired muscle I've got to deal with then?”

 

Wang Lung threw another file across the table, the folder unnervingly bare. Sing barely contained his gasp when he flipped it open.

 

Acidic green eyes glared back at him.

 

Forget killed, Sing was being sent to _slaughter_.

 

\---

 

**MONTE CARLO, MONACO**

 

“I'm so boooooored.”

 

_((Shut up and focus.))_

 

“Are you alright sir?” the bartender at the mansion’s mini bar looked puzzled, his hands passing Sing’s second martini for the evening. “We do have a pool table downstairs.”

 

“Nah, not a pool guy. Also, it probably won't help my headache,” Sing took a sip of his martini, his fingers playing with the olive garnish. “It has the most annoying voice.”

 

_((Fuck you too Yasha. You're stuck with this headache until you actually do something to find Crow or Lynx.))_

 

“--it's really sucks even though you want it to go away--”

 

_((Yasha. Two o'clock. The man in the pinstripes talking to the ambassador. I can't find him on the guest list.))_

 

Sing immediately spotted him-- a brunette in deep conversation with the guest of honour, donning a bespoke royal blue pinstripe suit and a plate of canapés in his hand. He was about Ash’s height, but that was all he could gather at this distance.

 

“Man if my headache is wrong I'm gonna be causing an international scene I tell ya that,” Sing grumbled to himself, picking up his own plate of food from the bar counter and making his way to the man as casually as he could, not wanting to spook him.

 

He knew he's got the right guy when the man stilled and started walking away without even turning his head towards him.

 

Sing picked up the pace, starting to use a bit of aggression to push the guests out of the way. They all glared at him, huffing and scoffing. This was his first mistake.

 

Ash had turned back and started yelling, pointing frantically at him.

 

**“Un flingue! Un flingue! Cet homme est dangereux!”**

 

“Huh?” His French wasn't the best but he could guess just by how the guests started screaming and dispersing, while the security guards proceeded to close in on him.

 

_((They think you’re a shooter! Get out of there now!))_

 

“No I’m not!” Sing helplessly watched as Ash took advantage of the anarchy, taking off to Eastern Wing of the building while he had to dodge the guards’ attempts to capture him. “ **Non! Non! je ne suis pas** \-- dammit I don't have time for this! ”

 

_((I lost visual! He found me and overrode my signal, fuck--))_

 

“Outside!” Sing smashed his plate against a guard before running towards Ash’s direction, the commotion a distant noise echoing off the walls. He ran through twisting hallways and dark corridors, up staircases and down rubbish chutes, until he'd manage to corner him into one of the drawing rooms. Sing finally took out the small pistol hidden in his suit, the click of safety off loud in his ears. “Get outside-”

 

Two gunshots were fired the moment he stepped in. One taking the gun right off his hands, the other whizzing right past his ear.

 

A Wesson and Smith glinted in the lowlight, just like in the urban legends. The man himself, however, was more beautiful that he could have ever imagined; his eyes were colder than ice, even behind hazel contact lenses.

 

_So this was the king of the underworld. Our very own Hades._

 

“Throw out your earpiece.”

 

_((Yasha. Yasha don’t--))_

 

_Click click._

 

_((Yasha!))_

 

“Bye moon moon, I'll catch you later,” and with that he used his uninjured hand to chuck the earpiece onto the floor. Ash immediately destroyed said device with the crack of a bullet, right before it could even hit the velvet carpet. Dead accuracy.

 

 _Fucking hell he's intimidating as fuck_. Sing slowly raised his hands in defence, his eyes ever wary of the gun pointed right at him.

 

“You're one of Shorter’s boys aren't you? The Soo-Ling kid.”

 

Sing narrowed his eyes at the mention of his mentor and his real name. “What's it to you?”

 

“Stay away from the Lees, they're bad news,” Ash, to his surprise, lowered his gun, his face contemplative. “Shorter would never send one of his own, so I'm doing him a solid. Now scram. I don't ever want to see your ugly mug again.”

 

“Not until you hand over Okumura--”

 

The crack of another warning shot, this time grazing his shoulder. Within the split second he took to recover from the shock, Ash had already jumped out the window.

 

Sing scrambled to said window, only to find himself being warned by a bullet yet again. The last thing he saw was Ash pointing a gun at him through the passenger window of a sleek maroon Aston Martin, with the _bartender from before_ in the driver’s seat.

 

The squealing of tires as the pair escaped just added more salt to his wounded pride.

 

\---

 

“Please tell me Okumura wasn’t the bartender underneath a mask.”

 

“Okumura wasn’t even at the party. Ash has more connections than we initially thought-- we’re definitely changing informants.”

 

“Thank fuck. My pride could not take any more of a hit. So, am I on the interpol most wanted list yet?”

 

“You wish. Ash managed to destroy all footage from the party. Plus, the press couldn't care less. They’re on a roll with the several leaked videos of their beloved ambassador participating in a large-scale cocaine trafficking ring.”

 

“Ah.”

 

\---

 

**MILAN, ITALY**

 

“You know we could finish this job a lot easier if I could actually contact Shorter--”

 

“No,” Yut Lung looked incredibly pretentious with his hotel bathrobe and sunglasses inside the hotel, typing on his laptop at the end of the bed. Even so, Sing’s got to admit that he’s the best quartermaster he’s ever had, especially for a Lee-- but that didn’t mean he’d trust a snake. Yut Lung was just, well, _an efficient snake_.

 

Sing sighed, cleaning the last of his knives and placing them back into the case. He glared at Yut Lung again. “You want information on how to find Ash Lynx or not?”

 

“You want to put Shorter on my brothers’ shit list or not?” the snake nonchalantly replied, his Versace designer sunglasses still resting firmly on his sharp nose bridge. “You know your boss well enough-- if you told him, would he go against his totalitarian superiors, or help out one of his fugitive friends? Wang Lung chose you because you couldn’t give less of a shit about Ash Lynx’s notoriety if it meant helping out Chinatown.”

 

“So you’re self aware-- that the Lees, _you included_ , are a bunch of massive assholes.”

 

“You just got that?” Yut Lung scoffed, his eyes never leaving the computer screen. “You can’t get this rich and powerful just by being _nice_. Welcome to the real world boy wonder. And pack your bags, I just found gas station footage of the Aston Martin driving down the SR2 towards Rome. Okumura’s there.”

 

 _Ugh._ Sing closed his eyes, heaving another sigh as he slumped into the hotel sofa.

 

\---

 

**VATICAN CITY - ROME, ITALY**

 

“Even if Okumura did show up,” Sing grumbled, the gelato in his hand already melting, a fine representation of his souring mood. His gaze was fixated on the large Japanese tour group that were posing in front of St. Peter’s Basilica, their chatter a constant white noise. “There are like, _millions_ of tourists waddling about. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack. And I don’t know about you, but I have a _strict_ code of not harming civilians.”

 

“You’re an idiot for thinking you can do that in our line of business,” Yut Lung was on his phone, seemingly looking through his camera gallery, except each thumbnail was actually live feed from every street camera within a two kilometre radius. “Besides, you’re meant to be one of our best sharpshooters-- just don’t shoot the wrong people.”

 

“Easier said than done asshole.”

 

“I know,” Yut Lung quipped, taking out his selfie stick, or maybe his high powered satellite stick-- Yut Lung had too many gadgets for Sing to properly keep track. “I just felt like telling you.”

 

“ _Wow thanks._ This is brand new information,” his tone was definitely sardonic in nature, but there was a hint of amusement that had escaped along with it. He didn’t dwell on it too much, crumpling his finished gelato cup in one hand with a satisfying scrunch and shooting it straight into the bin nearby.

 

“Hey. I’m taking a bathroom break,” he dusted his khaki shorts as he stood, giving his back a good stretch. “If I hear your voice one time I think I might just jump into the fountain over there and swim with the coins. Make sure you don’t get swept away by the aunty tourists while I'm gone-- they’re pretty fierce.”

 

Yut Lung responded only with his middle finger directed to his person, in the holy land of Vatican City no less. Sing couldn’t help but laugh when he heard a scandalised gasp from one of the middle-aged tourist ladies nearby.

 

\---

 

_“Wow, it’s so huge! This whole thing is a shrine?”_

 

_“A Catholic shrine yeah. Most people call them churches. You’ve got loads of shrines back home though, don’t you sweetheart?”_

 

_“Yes! Izumo Taisha is the most ancient one- oh! A wishing fountain! Let’s go make a wish As-uh, Chris!”_

 

_“But this isn’t the Trevi fountain- oh alright alright! Don’t look at me like that baby. Just keep your cap on, and stay close.”_

 

\---

 

_I pray for his happiness and health. Just this. Please._

 

\---

 

**ROME, ITALY**

 

**09:15**

“Wow,” Sing whistled, surveying the extravagant hotel lobby, all glittering chandeliers and velvet carpet. “They've even got an indoor fountain bigger than my apartment. Now that's too fucking much. Okumura sure knows how to live large.”

 

_((It's popular amongst politicians and celebrities, which means it also houses some top of the art security-- bio-scans, key cards reissued daily, black ops security, the list goes on.))_

 

“But no metal detectors or x rays at the door? Flawed design but I ain’t complaining,” the receptionist at the desk didn't seem too worried about it either, their eyes bored when they gave him a once over, attention finally landing on the postal company logo on his breast pocket.

 

They ducked behind the counter, only reappearing with a small trolley a good while after. “Letters in the top box. Parcels go on the shelves.”

 

Sing placed his dud letters and two parcels as planned, thanking the receptionist and getting them to sign fake papers before making a quick retreat.

 

\---

 

**23:57**

 

The wind was howling, declaring her presence, a formidable force of nature. At seventy floors up on the rooftop of a neighbouring skyscraper, she was even more of a beast, threatening to blow him right off, but he knew her well enough that she favoured him above the rest.

 

_((Yasha.))_

 

“Don't sound so scared moon moon, I ain't gonna fall,” the harness on his black turtleneck a familiar weight. “They don't call me the wind dragon for nothing.”

 

_((Stop calling me moon moon. And as if I would care for you facing the consequences of your own stupidity. Just don't mess this up. This is a one in a million chance. I can actually see Crow in his room, curtains wide open even. If only it were less windy and within snipable distance.))_

 

“Lynx wouldn't make such a rookie mistake,” Sing quipped, his fingerless gloves gripping the rope of the grappling hook, testing its strength. “You ready?”

 

_((Do I have a choice? Disabling window pressure sensors in three, two, one--))_

 

The loud explosion from the ground floor was unmistakable. Hopefully it happened in the unmanned mail room and not at reception.

 

Regardless, it did its job, if Yut Lung’s affirmations that the majority of hotel security had been delegated to the ground floor were anything to go by. Now Sing just had to deal with Okumura’s personal bodyguards.

 

He took off.

 

Grappling hook. Edge of wall. _Free fall_.

 

\---

 

_((You’ve wasted way too much time!))_

 

“Hey I scaled it in record time!” Sing loaded his rifle with a loud click, his steps echoing as he descended down the stairwell. “The glass was just a bitch to cut! I had to improvise!”

 

_((You better thank your fucking stars that Crow’s still on the sixty-seventh floor. But he’s got two armed bodyguards, and the devil is coming up on the fifty-second, so you better make the hit before he finds you.))_

 

“Yeah I got it,” there was shiver that ran down his spine when he thought back to those cold jade eyes. He wasn't in any hurry to face those again. Sing sprinted into the luxurious hallway, his rifle in position. “Which room?”

 

_((Not room. They're in the observatory restaurant-- they've shut off the power and I can't seem to remotely turn it on. Be careful.))_

Sing took a breath. In, out, and then shuffled into the deserted dining area. It was eerie, when the curtains have been drawn shut, the patrons evacuated, and the only light within the huge restaurant was the ominous glow of the battery powered fish tanks, the movement of the fish unnerving in the stillness, the bubbles deafening in the silence.

 

Carefully, he took a pepper shaker and chucked it in mid air to divert their attention.

 

The gunfire started almost immediately.

 

There was one man with strawberry hair, his own rifle aimed at him behind the bar. The other bodyguard, a huge fella, had a pistol instead, attempting to drag Okumura from the kitchen towards the mini gallery. He fired a shot at them through the fish tanks before they could do so, the loud shattering causing them to take cover behind the columns, the broken lights leaving the area in total darkness.

 

Shooting blindly in the dark was the absolute _worst_. Sing kept his breathing steady, the tension in the silence thick and suffocating, and then--

 

“Kong! Are you okay?”

 

Sing’s eyes widened in surprise at the soft wispy voice. It felt so familiar, yet he couldnt put a finger on it.

 

Nevertheless, he either was one of those yappy arrogant mafia types, or a _huge fucking idiot_.

 

Sing aimed at the direction of Okumura’s voice.

 

But of course, the devil works harder.

 

The second before he pulled the trigger, he got his hand shot in the same fucking place _again._

 

“Boss!”

 

Sing let out a string of colourful expletives under his breath, zig zagging his way through the tables and chairs to avoid Ash’s wrath. He had no idea how Ash was still possibly aiming at him in the darkened room but he sure wasn't going to stay in one place to find out.

 

“Skipper’s here!” the ferocity and animosity in his growl was only exacerbated by the sound of reloading bullets. “Go!”

 

Sing swore under his breath when all three of Okumura’s protectors shot at him while the guy himself was being shovelled towards the entrance.

 

“Come on Eiji,” the large bodyguard yelled. “We've got to vamoose, the police are gonna-”

 

“Ash!” Sing could never have imagined that his name could pull on his heartstrings this much-- the tone Okumura had was too vulnerable and pleading for his liking. “Ash, please-”

 

_“Go!”_

 

“Moon moon, they're escaping!” man it was hard to use his non-dominant hand in a gunfight-- his accuracy was pretty abysmal, but it kept the blonde busy enough, his normally light footsteps now thundering. “I need a ride out!

 

_((That’s going to do absolutely nothing-- they're going to the roof.))_

 

“Then shoot their chopper down!”

 

_((Which one? The media, police and medics all have their own and they’re all on the roof right now-- they've probably stolen a legitimate commercial helicopter because I can’t ID then. You want to go back on your civilian code of conduct thing? Because the option is there Yasha; I have an anti-aircraft missile launcher and it’s great at shooting multiples.))_

 

“Ugh!” the rifle in his hands was definitely going to run out of bullets soon. This mission was going to be a bust and it was all because Ash came in, guns blazing and unparalleled abilities accompanying his nightmarish presence.

 

_((You can’t kill the Lynx-- you know this. That’s why we were aiming for Crow. Don’t be stupid and die just because your pride was slighted. As your quartermaster and your fucking boss I say we’re making a tactical retreat right now.))_

 

Sing cursed out loud one last time before scurrying back to the entrance, leaving Ash as the last survivor of the darkness.

 

\---

 

**EN ROUTE TO ORIKUM, ALBANIA**

 

“Hey moon moon,” Okumura’s woeful plea now making its rounds at the back of Sing’s mind. “Okumura is just Ash’s client yeah? That's all?”

 

“The only way to take down Ash Lynx is through Okumura,” Yut Lung was aggressively typing at his laptop again, his eye bags prominent and his tea long cold. Apparently another business partner of the Lees was facing a huge scandal-- this time involving an Italian pharmaceutical company and human test subjects. His brothers were making him multitask.

 

“You didn't answer my question.”

 

“I definitely did. Don't overthink it.”

 

\---

 

**???, ADRIATIC SEA**

 

_“Hey boss, I know you’re gonna deck me for this but I gotta say it: Eiji isn't doing too hot. He’s trying his best but he ain't coping well.”_

 

_“I know. God I know.”_

 

\---

 

**ATHENS, GREECE**

 

“The place is called Tartarus? You're kidding-- you’re saying I finally get to see what hell looks like?”

 

“Well, a bunch of drunk idiots grinding on every available surface sounds like hell to me.”

 

\---

 

“Have you seen this man?” he raised the polaroid to the bartender’s face, her eyes subsequently squinting at Okumura’s photo. “I'm trying to meet up with a friend of his, but he dyes his hair alot so most people don't recognise him.”

 

“Yeah actually,” the lady behind the bar loudly replied, trying to beat the overbearing bass of the music. “He went upstairs to freshen up. You looking for his boyfriend?”

 

“Boyfriend? I mean-”Sing cleared his throat, recollecting himself. “Really? They got together? Finally! What did he look like-- are we talking about the same guy?”

 

“He’s currently blonde if you wanna know. Tall with green eyes, looked like one of them Hollywood types, real cold and otherworldly.”

 

“Yep,” he heaved, jade eyes with murderous intent flashing across his mind-- he tried not to let the fear get to his head. “That's him.”

 

“Unfortunately, I think they might have had a fight. One second they were all cutesy then a second later your friend stormed off to the other side of our joint. He looked like he was gonna breathe fire.”

 

“Yeah he does that,” Sing mumbled under his breath, feeling the metal of his gun strapped to his thigh getting colder by the minute, his heart thundering in his chest at the thought of the Lynx prowling about. “Hey uh, I'm actually here to surprise them with a visit, but I might do that when they’ve cooled down a bit. If you could keep me being here a secret, I'd really appreciate it.”

 

“Sure, anything else?”

 

“Anyone with the guy upstairs? I might call some friends to take him back if he's feeling unwell.”

 

“Nah,” the bartender sighed, her eyes turned to the padded insulation of the upper floor. “The poor guy’s alone.”

 

\---

 

“Moon moon I'm going up.”

 

“Hello?”

 

“God whatever I don't have time for this-”

 

\---

 

It was true. Eiji Okumura was really all alone-- no bodyguards, no Ash-- just a guy crouched in the corner with his face buried in his arms, a pathetic sight juxtaposed to the party goers having the time of their lives. Sing could just easily shuffle up to him and use one of his knives instead of making a scene with his gun, less casualties, less cleanup. Now he just needed to get past the crowd.

 

And of course Okumura had to look up and recognise him the moment he decided to not use his gun. Of course Okumura had his own _bloody gun-_

 

He reached for his own weapon at the same time, adopting the same stance as Okumura. The crowd had started screaming and dispersing the moment someone shouted about the presence of said guns.

 

He felt the cold sweat forming at his temple, his eyes never leaving Okumura.

 

But he did at least let his eyes travel to the weapon in his hands.

 

It could have been the darkness of the nightclub, the adrenaline, the recently absurd train of thoughts he'd been having but-

 

Sing has taken apart thousands of standard automatics in his life, cleaned them from the inside out. If he could bet on one thing, it would be this.

 

Sing took the shot.

 

The bullet landed off-centre.

 

But only because another guy suddenly materialised and shoved Okumura to the side, giving enough inches for the bullet to miss his heart completely. However, he still managed to shoot him in the chest.

 

Sing’s head was spinning at the thought of how he could have killed him just like that, _after everything._

 

Okumura fell over like a limp doll, breathing laboured. Despite being so close, Sing couldn’t finish the job. He had found himself in a standoff once again-- this time the stranger actually knew how to use the weapon in his hands; he stood protectively in front of Eiji, his face enraged.

 

“Fuck! Eiji! Stay with me! _Ei-chan!_ ”

 

 _Ei-chan. Eiji Okumura. Ei-chan_. The names echoed in his head. God, Sing was so so sick of the dejavu.

 

“...Sorry Alex,” the man in question whined painfully behind him, his eyes then looking past his person. “M’sorry, Ash-”

 

 _Oh. Oh shit._ Sing didn’t dare turn around, his gun still trained at the man bleeding out on the ground. This was the only leverage he had.

 

“Boss,” Alex looked like he finally allowed himself to panic, his tone frantic. “Eiji h-he's been shot. He needs immediate medical attention-”

 

“Sing Soo-Ling,” the Lynx interrupted, saying his name like a curse, enunciating every syllable, the words seething and dripping with poison. ”Drop your gun, or the Lee brother gets it.”

 

“Don't fuck with me-”

 

“Sing,” the familiar impassive voice drawled, causing Sing to swear under his breath again.

 

 _Out of all the times Ash could found the snake, it just had to be now_. Sing couldn’t see him, but he sounded way too calm for someone who was probably being held hostage.

 

“I said,” the click of the safety off accompanying his threat. “Drop the fucking gun Sing.”

 

“Sing, don't you dare. They’ll shoot you anyway-”

 

_“You shut the fuck up-”_

 

“Let's make a deal,” Sing took in Alex’s panic,  remembering the connotations provided by the bartender, and how the feeling in his gut only intensified when he saw the gun in Okumura’s hand.

 

If he was wrong, then a lot of people are going to die tonight.

 

If he was right, well-

 

“No. You drop your gun,” Ash sounded livid at this point. “No fucking negotiations.”

 

“I can shoot Okumura _right now,_ ” he tried to sound threatening, but it came out like a wheeze. God he's actually done it. He's really channeling that big dumbass energy Shorter was always accusing him of.

 

“You can immediately take Okumura to treatment if you give me the Lee, or-” Sing had to physically pause, gulping as he stepped on the toes of undoubtedly one of the most dangerous mercenaries in the world. “-or I can wait it out as he slowly bleeds out, suffering until he dies a horrible gruesome death.”

 

“And,” Sing continued, finally letting the threat seep into his words. “It will be all because of _you_.”

 

There was a gasp behind him-- it sounded like Yut Lung but he wasn't sure. On the other hand, he could see Alex immediately gaping in response.

 

“ _You_ ,” Alex hissed, his grip on the handle tightening. “You sick son of a bitch-”

 

“Alex.”

 

The man looked dumbstruck. Sing could only imagine the kind of face Ash was making right now. “S-Sorry boss.”

 

“Alright Soo-Ling,” the tone Ash took on was indescribable. It shook him to his very core. “My associate is going to pick Okumura up and leave through the door. Only, and _only_ _then_ , will I release Lee Yut Lung. Any funny business and I will shoot _without hesitation_.”

 

Sing agreed, watching Alex carefully pick up Eiji, his gun slowly trailing after the pair waddling towards the exit. Soon enough he was fully turned around, and was met with the most terrifying glare.

 

Ash had his gun pointed to Yut Lung’s temple, the latter looking at Sing like he was some foreign alien.

 

The moment Eiji was out of sight, Ash immediately kicked Yut Lung towards him, gun out. Sing was a split second too late to avoid casualties, but he could at least save Yut Lung from getting shot in the back-

 

\---

 

“You idiot! You absolute fucking fool-”

 

“Oh my god shut up. Let me enjoy this soft ass hotel bed in peace. If I didn't have a bullet in my shoulder I would have bitch slapped you into next century. Don't make me regret saving your life.”

 

“... do you?”

 

“No? What the fuck? What's with that look-”

 

\---

 

**LARISSA, GREECE**

 

_“Dr. Meredith said he's got a fifty-fifty chance. You sure you don't want to see him?”_

 

_“Ash?”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> added one more chapter because it was getting long whoops!!!  
> oh boy whaddup it be that [clacking me tap dancing shoes] yuesing content

**ZAGREB, CROATIA**

 

“That was Wang Lung,” Yut Lung finally looked up from his phone, his lips forming a thin line as his whole body tensed. “He says good work on shooting Okumura. The results are evident.”

 

“Oh. Did his body get sent back to Japan?”

 

“No. Turns out the ambassador involved in the Monte Carlo drug scandal just got killed in a road accident-- a truck hit his portion of the police carrier while on his way to prison.”

 

“Uh. Okay?”

 

“Two thirds of the board of directors from that Italian pharmaceutical company are now either dead or in a coma,” there was a very deliberate pause before he sighed, his hand letting the phone slip out of his hand and onto the bed, the other hand rubbing his temple in irritation. “The last one third just asked our company for protection.”

 

“You saying it’s foul play?” Sing slowly sat up from the sofa bed, wincing when he aggravated his bullet wound in the process. “You saying Ash’s playing reaper? That means I managed to kill Okumura right?”

 

“I'm saying the Lynx is _pissed as hell_ ,” Sing noticed his usually long neat braid fraying at the ends, the startings of a situation that was getting too difficult to handle, their cornered prey mutating into something real ugly. “Ash isn’t taking any more chances-- he’s switching to the offensive.”

 

“Shit. Wiping out the potentials huh?” Sing collapsed back onto the creaky bedding, cheap silk pillows softening his descent. Okumura must still be kicking if the Lynx was resorting to such desperate measures.

 

Next time he’ll aim for the head.

  


\---

  


**???, CROATIA-HUNGARY BORDER**

  


_“Shhhh, hey. Aslan it's okay. I'm okay. We’ll be okay.”_

 

_“I’m not going anywhere.”_

 

_“I’ll be right here.”_

  


_\---_

  


**BUDAPEST, HUNGARY**

 

“Fancy party? Check. Stuffy suit? Check,” Sing’s got a cocktail settling at the pit of his stomach, the burn of expensive liquid courage an after effect. “Even stuffier guestlist? Check and check-- it's Monte Carlo all over again.”

 

_((But at least we already know Crow isn't actually here.))_

 

Sing sighed, fiddling with the ends of his bow tie as he blended in with a group of Taiwanese businessmen at the buffet table, their shuffling bodies looking like slinking creatures in the dim lighting, especially with their faces hidden under themed Venetian masks. If only the large intricate chandelier above them could shine just a bit brighter, and reveal the secrets lurking in the shadows of this masquerade ball.

 

Thankfully, his current reconnaissance mission had a significantly less risk of him causing a diplomatic incident. Sing’s not looking to be on the Interpol’s most wanted list anytime soon-- he _just_ got off the FBI’s watchlist.

 

“Any anomalies in the guest list?”

 

_((Guests? No. But there’s also wait staff, security, entertainers-))_

 

“And?”

 

_((Don’t “and?” me you ass. Easier said than done-- wait staff alone has a whopping seven hundred names. Go do some groundwork. Lynx doesn’t exactly have a forgettable face-- masked or unmasked.))_

 

“Again, easier said than done,” he scowled under his own wolf inspired mask, sneakily shuffling behind a waiter to keep his eyes on Ash’s supposed target-- a wiry old syndicate leader with a sly smile and blood-stained background fitting for the vulture mask he donned. Even at his age, he was still enjoying the debauchery, lazily swaying to whatever was playing with a glass of red wine in his hand.

 

Currently, the beat of the new song playing from the stage up front matched the thrumming under his skin, the acoustic guitar strings and rhythmic slapping of wood summoning a dangerous feeling from the bottom of his soul.

 

But to his surprise, the canary-like voice from the songstress before was gone, her lullaby replaced by a velvet baritone, to which the vulture had immediately turned his attention towards, mesmerised.

 

When Sing followed his line of sight, he saw bluebird feathers on both mask and navy suit, the beautiful singer isolated on a raised platform above the rest, red lights staining his plume.

 

**_“Oh, King of Hell, I offer to you. I implore you to find them.”_ **

 

He knew that voice.

 

The violent twangs of the guitar struck something primal and raw, his whole being on alert. The vulture on the other hand, like many of his fellow party guests, failed to see past the colourful visage and allure. Drawn to the performance like sailors to a siren, snakes to a pied piper.

 

**_“This tale of a drunk paper doll.”_ **

 

Some were even pushing, wanting to get closer, red light spilling across their faces. The vulture wandered too far for him to catch up, the crowd pushing both the bodyguard falcons and lone wolf out of the way. The red intensified the closer he got.

 

A panther bumped into him just as the music swelled, just before Sing yelled for Yut Lung to call for backup, to put the whole place on lockdown.

 

**_“A monkey show I’d play along 'til the day I fall.”_ **

 

The vulture descended onto the cold hard marble, wine glass shattering, the brightest of red finally blooming.

 

\---

 

_((The files say his name’s Christopher Winston, graduated Juilliard Vocal arts summa cum laude.))_

 

“ _Summa cum laude?_ Fucking hell,” Sing reloaded his gun again, his feet kicking at Ash’s abandoned suit in the back rooms in frustration, exotic blue feathers scattering. “ _Sum’ of the biggest bullshit_ more like. Secure the perimeter-- make sure Lynx and co. have nowhere else to go.”

  


\---

  


Ash Lynx may always be two steps ahead, but Sing’s own speed and stamina were nothing short of inhuman.

 

Of course he had to make sacrifices, letting Ash’s other accomplices escape, but he managed to corner the big boss into the large parking garage underneath the hotel, guns raised.

 

Sing tried not to let his hand waver, nozzle pointed at the space between those cursed jade eyes.

 

“I don’t want to kill you,” he breathed out, his hand finally letting itself tremble a bit. _I don’t think I can. Not right now_.

 

“That’s real convincing,” Ash spat, his own revolver trained on Sing’s face, his white blouse dirtied and tattered from their previous scuffle in the kitchens.

 

“I don’t want to kill Shorter’s friend,” he hissed this time, thinking of how much his boss had talked about his buddy with such high praises, the camaraderie evident. He loathed to put bad blood between him and the mentor he so respected because of a job.

 

“I just want Okumura. I’m sure whatever yakuza benefits he offered you could never be worth your own life.”

 

There was a long excruciatingly painful pause, his own breathing loud in his ears as the seconds ticked by.

 

Sing expected Ash to bite back, or at least negotiate, but instead his glare melted into something akin to confusion, then back to anger, then-

 

“ _Yakuza_ ,” he wheezed, teeth gritted, his eyes shining something fierce. Sing’s unsure if it was even anger anymore. “Those bloody fuckers telling their dogs he’s _yakuza-_ oh god what have I done-”

 

“Hey!” Sing growled, his gun steadier than ever. “I ain’t no dog!”

 

But his voice was drowned out by the distant squealing of tires. There was also definitely a loud engine heading towards their direction.

 

“What the fuck?” Sing felt the rumbling under his feet, the car coming closer. When he studied Ash’s face, he looked equally dumbstruck. “Moon moon is that one of ours-”

 

_((-- isn’t!--))_

 

“Try again, you’re cutting off-”

 

_((--where are--)_

 

_((--contact you for ages! That’s--))_

 

_“Ash!”_

 

Sing swore loudly as he narrowly missed being run over, dodge rolling to the side while the Aston Martin left tire marks on the ground. It stopped in front of the blonde mercenary, the door opening to reveal Okumura in the hotel’s official valet uniform, driver’s cap masking his dark locks.

 

_“Eiji!”_

 

 _God._ Sing balked.

 

One would think, with the way Ash cried out for Okumura, that his name was some sort of prayer.

 

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it-- he scrambled to get up as Ash tumbled into the car, his gun firing two shots at Sing for good measure. They hit the pillar Sing hid behind.

 

“Eiji you- fuck, you’re not meant to be here!” Ash’s tone was frantic-- desperate even-- but Sing couldn’t detect a single hint of anger. “You’re still recovering-”

 

“They said you were in trouble!” Okumura retorted, tone equally as desperate. “I couldn’t just stay in bed! Don’t worry, I’ve talked with the gang and we’ve got some help-”

 

“Eiji _you-_ ugh _,_ quickly switch places with me. I’m driving us back,” Sing could see Ash settling into the driver’s seat, his gun still continuously unloading bullets towards his general direction through the gap in the window, the edges of the square pillar chipping off with how close he was aiming at him. There was hardly an opening for him to fire back.

 

He was about to give up and retreat to another location, hopefully having enough information for Yut Lung to track them from the air, but then there was another bozo coming in hot from the car park entrance, their high beam lights filling the area, temporarily blinding him.

 

Ash reversed his car all the way out of the basement garage in response, the squealing of tires accompanying the revving of the newcomer’s engine, his revolver now shooting at the incoming vehicle opposite.

 

Said vehicle appeared to be a huge jeep. They had rolled down its tinted passenger window to fit an automatic rifle, which was then immediately used to shoot repeatedly at the escaping Aston Martin.

 

The gunner yelled at Sing, pausing his fire just a second to toss him keys to what he assumed was for the motorbike tied to the back of the jeep.

 

“Yasha! Get on!”

 

 _Oh_. Sing made a beeline to the back, needing to clutch the edges when Yut Lung’s driver sped after Lynx and Okumura. The roar of the engine menacingly echoed off the walls as they continued with the hunt.

  


\---

  


The engine of his motorbike growled as he sped through the highway, manoeuvring himself in busy traffic while tailing the maroon Aston Martin as close as possible. If it were any other person, Sing would already have caught up with them.

 

If it were anyone other than Ash Lynx, that was.

 

Sing thought he had him at one stage, when they were still in the city and he was about to collide with an oncoming tram.

 

But instead of stopping, the madman drove himself onto the _pavement._

 

Now, about half an hour in, they were on the highway, with Ash weaving through large trucks like there were nothing, avoiding both Yut Lung’s gunfire from the jeep and Sing’s attempts to catch up to the pair.

 

And of course, just as both Yut Lung and Sing managed to surround him, he sped up through the middle of two semi trailers, narrowly avoiding getting crushed by their large wheels by a hair’s length.

 

And of course, just as they lost visual of Lynx and Okumura, the semi trailers blocking them just had to be Lynx’s associates, their backs opening up to reveal exact replicas of the Aston Martin Ash had-- nameplate and all.

 

The moment the replicas were live, and the trucks dispersed, they were faced with two more replicas.

 

All five of them had their very own Lynx and Okumura in the front seats. All five of them made their way into different exits.

 

Sing heaved in a large breath before taking the Aston Martin closest to him, Yut Lung taking the one most in front.

  


\---

  


“My Lynx and Okumura turned out to both teenagers. They’re just third party hires who don’t actually know Ash-- they were promised the car if they could out drive us apparently. Hey, at least we now have two race cars-”

 

_((You’re not fucking funny.))_

 

“I’m trying to make the best of the situation here. But if you want me to be pissed and I mean I could just drive the fucking car into a ditch out of spite-"

  


\---

 

 

_"Never ever do that again you hear me? God, I don't know what I'll do if I lose you-"_

 

_"I feel the same way about you Aslan. Please don't keep me in the dark. I'll go crazy."_

 

 

\---

  
  


“Yut Lung, you got a minute?”

 

“What did you say?” the click of a switch, then Yut Lung’s loud hairdryer going silent.

 

 _Well._ Sing audibly gulped, blinking owlishly at the other in his bathrobe. _What did he want to say again?_ He could talk about the way his long silky hair cascaded ever so gracefully, framing his petite but fit figure, or maybe even the way his body language exuded confidence, his stance beguiling, charm bewitching.

 

He could even talk about the way Yut Lung looked fresh out of the shower, all rosy pink, but, _well-_

 

In the end he didn't really have anything to say, the roof of his mouth feeling incredibly dry at the sight. The rational part of his brain was screaming about how this was a Lee, snakes with silver tongues and venom aplenty-- he shouldn’t even be entertaining such unsavoury, dangerous thoughts.

 

After all, a Lee would dispose of him the moment he was of no use to them. Efficiency was the motto they upheld for generations without a fault. And yet, Lee Yut Lung was different-- there was both objective reasoning, as well as a gut feeling to support his hypothesis.

 

For all intents and purposes, Lee Yut Lung had no pragmatic reason to make excuses for him, to hiss and spit into the phone calls with his brother, bending over backwards in order to keep them on this seemingly impossible mission when Sing himself was very much over it-

 

 _Ah._ He just remembered what he wanted to ask.

 

In the time he had used up for musing, the man in question had merely raised an eyebrow in question, two hands each gripping the ends of the towel slung around his shoulders as he walked closer to Sing.

 

“What?”

 

“I-” Sing sighed, hands lacing and placed in his lap, eyes downcast. He could hear the soft footsteps coming closer. “I- well, first off, I know you keep telling Wang Lung excuses to save my skin. I know I’m way over my head for this mission.”

 

“You are,” Yut Lung quipped, footsteps stopping in front of him.

 

“Oh my god,” Sing groaned, but laughter seeped through in the end, letting one arm hide his face as he fell back onto the scratchy bed covers. “Let me finish you asshole.”

 

“ _Asshole_ ,” Yut Lung mockingly parroted back, kicking playfully at his ankles. “I was just agreeing with you.”

 

“I just wanted to say-” Sing let his arm drop to the side, studying the cracks in their dingy hotel ceiling, the gaudy red of the peeling paint. Their room light was a fluorescent yellow that was way too bright, blinding-- like a deer in the headlights. He closed his eyes.

 

“Thanks for coming back for my dumb ass back there. It meant a lot.”

 

There was a pregnant silence, then a sigh, the mattress next to him dipping with weight.

 

His eyes remained shut, still remembering the blinding light, his everything hypersensitive. When soft long hair brushed his cheek he thought he had been electrocuted; when his ear felt hot breath he almost combusted. Yut Lung was so close, close enough to bite his throat out if he so dared to make one wrong move.

 

Sing knew he wouldn’t. And even if he did, he’d probably let him.

 

“I think you’re rubbing off me,” Yut Lung whispered, voice above him, tantalising. “I’ve caught your stupid.”

 

“You’re mistaking kindness for stupidity,” he allowed himself a glimpse, his eyes drinking in the sight of his hooded eyes and crooked smile, yellow fluorescence accentuating his graceful features. He even dared to play with his hair, but only because Yut Lung was doing the same with his spiked locks.

 

“Kindness is stupidity, there’s no mistake there,” Yut Lung laughed, his words a bit too cold and empty for Sing’s liking. He had also suddenly switched from gentle caresses to a rough ruffling of hair, eliciting an annoyed yelp from Sing, the latter then swatting the hand away. “You’re such a child.”

 

Sing switched positions with Yut Lung, hovering above him, his arms on either side of his head as he studied the enigma that was the youngest son of the cruel Lee family.

 

“You’re allowed to be kind Yut Lung. At least, in front of me,” Sing whispered, as if the man beneath him would just shatter at the noise. He had long noticed the cracks in Yut Lung’s poker face, his eyes looking at everywhere but him. “It’s easier to be cruel to survive in a cruel world but-”

 

Sing rested his forehead at the tender hollow of his throat.

 

“-the moment you stop believing in kindness, your soul dies.”

 

Yut Lung turned his head away, defeated. “It doesn’t pay to be kind.”

 

“ _Don’t say that,”_ there was a urgency to his voice that wasn’t intended. “You sound like your brothers, and you’re nothing like them-- they-- they only know how to hurt. I feel like you’ve been hurt-- that’s why you still have kindness in you.”

 

 _And the fact that you’re hurting makes you human_.

 

There was silence again, the ticking of the clock loud, the rise and fall of their breathing deafening.

 

Finally, Yut Lung stirred, the softness of his hands exploring the skin of Sing’s jaw from ear to chin, motioning him to come closer.

 

_“It’s laughable, but thank you for thinking I’m worth saving.”_

 

Their souls met in the middle.

  


\---

  


_“Whatever happens to me is never worth your life okay? I don’t-”_

 

_“Stop. You deserve the stars and the moon and beyond. And I’ll be right here to remind you whenever you need to hear it.”_

  
  


\---

 

“Lynx and Okumura are en route to Vienna via freight train, with another twenty million and more incriminating information stolen from Croatian syndicates,” Yut Lung lazily sprawled over him like a large cat, his hair fanning out on Sing’s bare chest as he typed into his laptop on the side. “It's like your modern day Bonnie and Clyde. Kings of the underworld.”

 

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Sing scrutinised the photo on Yut Lung’s screen, his cigarette smoke blurring Okumura’s fearful expression, his mind replaying the way Lynx had cried out his name. “Remember Athens? In Tartarus we had a standoff. Half a second in, I realised Okumura still had the safety _on._ ”

 

Sing felt Yut Lung still under his arm, and then the laptop was shut with a resounding click, Okumura disappearing.

 

“Moon moon?” he snuffed out the cigarette, freeing up one hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Yut Lung’s ear. “What’s up?”

 

“You ever heard of Persephone Sing?” Yut Lung’s face was pressed against the crook of his neck as he said it, voice muffled.

 

“The Queen of the Greek underworld right? Hades’ wife?”

 

“Not by choice. She was tricked, and fell from grace.” Yut Lung lifted his head from Sing’s neck, twisting to stare at the cover of the laptop, expression pensive.

  


\---

  


From: LWL

To: LYL

Subject: Re: Athens

 

ATTACHMENT persephone_classf0711.zip  
ATTACHMENT persephone_classf0210.zip  
ATTACHMENT ppHU-AT_copy.zip

 

The first two attachments are all the locations picked up by CIA facial recognition scans.

AL’s hits are a surprising but not unwelcome development. Now we have greater leverage. Do not waste resources protecting his targets.

SW has discovered the leaks and went rogue. He has also made contact with AL in Larrissa, Greece. Make sure SL does not find out.

Also, I am sure you have your own means of finding out, but as of yesterday, LBL and LTL are on **indefinite hiatus** for insubordination. LHL will be taking over your ballistics.

If I find that you’re straying from the objective, the first one to go will be the new dog I’ve just gifted to you.

 

**Do not disappoint me.**

  


\---

  


**VPN SERVICE: active (Set location: Shanghai, CHINA)**

  


<Enter Admin username> LEE HUA LUNG

<Enter Admin password> **********

<WELCOME MR.LEE>

  


**Copying 2799 items (80.8 GB)**

 

Name: AslanJCallen_97089pp.pdf

From: **persephone_classf** (\\\NYSERVER\Clientapps\CLASSIFIED\0989...\persephone_classf)

To: **for_yasha** (\\\H:\for_yasha)

Time remaining: Calculating…

Items remaining: 350 (5.22 GB)

Speed: 130 MB/second

  


\---

  


**VPN SERVICE: active (Set location: Dubai, UAE)**

 

<Are you sure you want to permanently delete this folder?> Yes

<Error Deleting File or Folder... Cannot Delete 77321: Access is denied>

<Are you sure you want to permanently delete this folder?> Admin Yes

 

<Enter Admin username> LEE MING LUNG

<Enter Admin password> ************

<WELCOME, MR. LEE>

<UNFORTUNATELY, YOUR REQUEST HAS BEEN DENIED>

  


**VPN SERVICE: active (Set location: London, UK)**

 

<Enter Admin username> LEE LEI LUNG

<Enter Admin password> *************

<WELCOME, MR. LEE>

<UNFORTUNATELY, YOUR REQUEST HAS BEEN DENIED>

  
  


\---

  


“...”

  


\---

  


**VPN SERVICE: active (Set location: New York, USA)**

 

<Enter Admin username> LEE WANG LUNG

<Enter Admin password> *************************

<WELCOME, MR LEE>

 

**Deleting 2799 items (80.8 GB)**

Name: EijiOkmr_SocialSNum.pdf

From: **persephone_classf** (\\\NYSERVER\Clientapps\CLASSIFIED\0989...\persephone_classf)

Time remaining: Calculating…

Items remaining: 2799 (80.8 GB)

Speed: 233 MB/second

  
  


\---

  


**CSORNA, HUNGARY**

  


_“I’m gonna be real frank with you Shorter. If I see him, I’ll shoot him with no fucking hesitation. I already warned him. I ran out of fucks to give the moment he pointed a fucking gun at Eiji.”_

 

_“Fuuuck, really? My boy Sing would never hurt a civilian though.”_

 

_“The Lees have been telling him that Eiji’s yakuza. Yut Lung’s his quartermaster.”_

 

_“Fucking hell, I can’t even call him if the snake’s got his communications. God, I thought he would have remembered Eiji from Nadia’s wedding, considering how he’d followed him and Ibe everywhere to photobomb people. Ironic how the one hell bent on not getting photographed ended up with the photographer huh?”_

 

_“Oi, shut the fuck up-”_

 

_“Don’t worry. Once we get the Lees out of the picture. Everything will clear up, you’ll see.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ash's singing the English translation of Flamingo by Kenshi Yonezu btw!! it's a cool jam  
> (i thought i could be... [WHEEZE]... done with this fic [W H E E Z E]... but alas... my typing hand...)  
> Hope everyone has a good day!


	3. Chapter 3

 

**GRAZ, AUSTRIA**

 

 

“Eiji Okumura has Shorter Wong.”

 

“He _what?_ ” his head shot up, shifting his body upright to face Yut Lung properly. The smaller man was currently turned away from him, long ebony hair covering his back.

 

“Shorter Wong has gone rogue,” there was a sigh, but he still refused to face Sing. “Look-”

 

“ _No,_ ” he hissed. If Yut Lung wouldn’t face him, he would stomp his way in front of the man and force him to look.

 

Which he did, but Yut Lung still had his eyes downcast, avoiding his hard gaze.

 

“Chinatown comes first,” he growled, teeth gritted and figure looming. “Always. No fucking exceptions. I don’t fucking care about what your brother thinks-”

 

“Look! I know alright?” Yut Lung hissed back, finally facing him with narrowed eyes. Sing felt a bit of that seething anger dull at the way he slouched as he sat back on the bed, fingers at his temples. “If it’s any consolation-- while Shorter Wong is definitely on Wang Lung’s shitlist, he’s yet to issue an active hit on him.”

 

“But it’s only a matter of time isn’t it?” all that tiredness he felt from the long inter-continental train ride had just vanished, leaving anxiety and restlessness in its wake.

 

Yut Lung, on the other hand, heaved in a deep breath, then out.

 

He looked extremely haggard.

 

“I’m flying to New York tonight, to-” Yut Lung looked to the hands folded in his lap, his brows furrowed. “-to _talk.”_

 

“You trying to convince the _biggest snake_ to let Shorter go?” Sing himself was unconvinced-- the man had killed others for far less. “If that’s your alternative, then offing Okumura is a piece of cake.”

 

“Wang Lung said,” Yut Lung whispered, as if the words themselves were sacrilegious. “He said you could exchange Okumura’s for Shorter’s immunity.”

 

“Plus, you forget that I’m a snake myself. I know how to talk to my own kind,” he then laughed, but his face was impassive as he stood up from his spot on the bed. “And you’d be surprised-- Ash Lynx would rather die than let anyone harm a hair on his head.”

 

“You say that as if you knew the reason why Ash is moving heaven and earth to protect Okumura.”

 

“I don’t,” his words elicited a contemplative expression on Yut Lung’s face, his head bowed as he went over to the small hotel hairdresser where his laptop sat. “I don’t know why.”

 

He then removed a sleek black pen drive from its usb port with a soft click.

 

_“But I think I’m learning.”_

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

“What’s in this?”

 

“Leverage-- with regards to Ash Lynx, and in case any one of my brothers threatens you while I’m gone. Password is… that stupid undercover name you gave me.”

 

“It isn’t _that_ bad.”

 

“But you have to promise me not to open it unless you’ve exhausted all means. You know what the Lees have done for generations-- I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here.”

 

“Wow. And they say chivalry is dead.”

 

_“Sing.”_

 

“Fine fine. I promise.”

 

 

 

\---

 

 

**SALZBURG, GERMAN-AUSTRIAN BORDER**

 

 

_“So, you want the good news or bad news first?”_

 

_“Does it really matter?”_

 

_“I’m just politely asking ya fucking sourpuss. The good news is-- I just got word that Ming Lung’s been successfully incapacitated by your contacts. My boys are enroute to Shanghai to deal with Hua Lung and we’ve got Cain’s boys sniffing out Lei Lung in London. We just need to figure out how to get to Wang Lung and where Yut Lung is.”_

 

_“And the bad news?”_

 

 _“Eiji he-- he didn’t get on his flight._ ”

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

**VIENNA, AUSTRIA**

 

 

With the added stake of Shorter’s life being on the line, he was definitely more fervent in seeking out Okumura. Too bad the absence of Yut Lung as his quartermaster meant that he had to pull some of his own strings in order to ascertain the whereabouts of said target.

 

By the time he managed to suss it out, the train Okumura supposedly bought tickets for was to depart in an hour.

 

 _Why does the Vienna Main station have to be so fucking huge?_ It took way too long for him to get here as well. When he caught a glimpse of the blue digital departure board at the concourse, he realised that the departure time for Okumura’s train was way too close for comfort.

 

Okumura’s train was leaving in five minutes.

 

Sing swore loudly as he bolted to the platform.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

He probably got cursed out by the countless of people he had bumped into as he ran, but at least he had made it onto the carriage in one piece.

 

Sing had to heave in a huge breath when he spotted the familiar tuft of black hair at one of the window seats.

 

Okumura was right there in plain sight, albeit a surgical face mask hiding the lower half of his face. The man seemed to be fiddling with a clothed amulet as his head leaned against window, eyes heavy lidded and unsuspecting. Ash Lynx was nowhere to be seen.

 

Sing could so easily pull out his gun and shoot him.

 

But then Okumura’s phone rang, and the name on his tongue made him freeze on the spot.

 

“Shorter, I’m sorry,” Okumura whispered, voice clearly pained even when muffled by his mask. “I’ll apologise to Bones for knocking him out-- y-yeah I know. But I have to see this through-- to the end. Please.”

 

Sing hesitantly stepped towards him, the weight of his weapon increasingly heavy at the side of his thigh. Okumura merely clutched the charm closer to his chest, protectively, still unaware of his presence.

 

“RJ 79. I think I’m in the middle carriage? Oh it’s the wagen? I’m on wagen 269- _ah-”_

 

Okumura finally noticed him, if his scrambling and dropping of the phone were anything to go by. The passengers around them similarly scrambled as they scattered out of the carriage, screaming and tripping over themselves right after they saw him pulling out the hidden gun he’d been carrying.

 

Soon enough it was just the two of them and the steady hum of the high speed rail.

 

Sing glanced at Okumura, who was very visibly shaking but still held his stance, a death grip on his amulet.

 

His gun kept its direction towards Eiji as he slowly picked his phone off the ground.

 

“..hello?”

 

“-up! Pick up Eiji- wait, _Sing?_ Holy fuck Sing my boy it’s me Shorter-- listen the fuck up okay? Eiji is-”

 

He didn't hear what Shorter had to say next, because there was the dreaded combination of blonde hair and green eyes in the reflection of the window just as he was about to tell Sing.

 

The phone landed on the carpet with a soft thud just as two gunshots rang out.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

He still can’t believe he managed to shoot Ash Lynx.

 

Sure his left shoulder was currently all kinds of fucked up, but at least his shooting hand was still intact-- Ash’s wasn’t. He’d given it up when he decided to block the bullet for Okumura.

 

Now he just had to find where they were hiding in the complex series of subway tunnels-

 

 _-or they could come to me_. Sing mused as he felt the murderous intent gripping the very edges of his soul, squeezing the fear out of it. He dared not make a move-- not in the darkness of the subway system, not where the Lynx had the most advantage.

 

It was only when a passing train shed light onto the tunnel walls did he spot the glint of the hunting knife in Ash’s hand, the flash of green cold and out for blood.

 

 _“Fucking hell!”_ he had wasted three shots before the train left and sent the area back into total darkness, its distant rumbles muffled by his own stuttering heartbeat. Ash was gone again, leaving nothing but a terrifying memory and eerie silence.

 

Sing couldn't wait until the next train to shine light onto the situation-- he'd be gutted by then.

 

So he listened to his surroundings-- to the distant rumbling of carriages, to his own breathing, to the crackling that came with his footsteps on loose rock.

 

And to the barely audible clanking of light footsteps on metal tracks, to the same ones that were increasing in intensity behind him.

 

A swift kick, causing Sing’s gun to clatter onto the railway track, and then the clashes of metal against metal echoing.

 

It was only the sounds of another incoming train that separated them, both jumping back simultaneously to let it pass. In the flickering dim light of the carriages, the way Ash flicked the blood off his weapon played out like a movie, shot by shot.

 

 _Bloody fucker should have gone down by now._ Sing wiped the fresh cut on his cheek with the back of his hand, before placing his own standard issue kukri in a defensive position, ever wary of the individual just waiting to jump him on the other side, even though he was clearly the more injured of the two.

 

Sing couldn't feel his shoulder, but Ash’s bullet wounds to the hand and chest were nothing to laugh at. It was nothing short of incredible that he was still standing-- at least his breathing was laboured, a tell tale sign that his stamina was running out.

 

Ash Lynx was truly inhuman, but even the devil himself wasn't infallible.

 

When the train passed, Sing was just that split second quicker at picking the fallen gun from the railway track.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

“Where’s Okumura?” Sing barely kept the waver out of his words, still reeling from the fact that he had managed to incapacitate him, his bullets causing the blooming red on his pant legs. Even as Ash laid on the ground, his lower limbs out of commission, the way he kept his gaze hard and defiant sent shivers.

 

There was silence, then the reloading of bullets loud and clear.

 

“Last chance Lynx,” Sing pointed the weapon at the blonde hitman, his teeth gritted. “Where. Is. Okumura.”

 

“The Lees have been lying to you,” Ash heaved, fists clenched. “He’s not yakuza. He’s a fucking civilian-- just leave him--”

 

“I’m less inclined to believe that after you of all people went through such lengths to protect _a mere civilian_ ,” Sing retorted, taking one slow step towards Ash. “And it also doesn’t change the fact that his death means immunity for Shorter. You tell me where Okumura is, and I’ll call you an ambulance.”

 

“I-” his hands were bloodied, his black turtleneck riddled with cuts, his whole being kneeling on the ground like a wounded animal, and yet-

 

“I rather you shoot me in the fucking head,” Ash seethed, and Sing could swear that his eyes glowed something demonic-- all frenzied and wild.

 

_“And I’ll haunt your every living breath until the day I drag you down to hell with me.”_

 

Sing held his breath.

 

“Fine _.”_ A click of the safety off. “I’ll see you there-”

 

_“Aslan!”_

 

Sing never thought he would see such a quick switch to such a pitiful expression on Ash Lynx’s face at the sound of Okumura’s voice. It worsened when Okumura stepped into the dim light of the single tunnel bulb overhead, hands raised in defense.

 

“Nonononono Eiji-” anyone could tell that Ash’s legs were of no use to him, but the man himself desperately made several attempts to get up, only to fall onto the gravel with a painful crunch. Sing’s heart was gripped by an entirely different emotion instead.

 

“Eiji! Go away!” he yelled, the words booming in the echoey tunnel. But that only amplified his quaver, the warble in his voice. His hands bled onto the small rocks he grasped as he crawled towards Okumura. “I told you to go the fuck away!”

 

“Shorter said,” Eiji started, his mouth slowly enunciating the syllables of his mentor’s name. “Shorter said you were noble.”

 

“I’m a lot of things,” he redirected his gun to his real target, trying to ignore the sickening crunches from Ash’s general direction. There was definitely more yelling, but if he paid too much attention to the words, he might just lose his resolve.

 

“I-I’m the one you want right? If you-” Okumura blinked back tears, the wetness mixing in with the scrapes from the fall he had earlier. He looked like a sheep being fed to the wolves.

 

“If y-you kill me,” he managed to stutter out, trembling. “You said you’ll bring him to a hospital-- will you promise to let him go?”

 

“I-” _what in the fresh hell._ Sing blinked owlishly. The naivety and innocence was too much.

 

_“Please.”_

 

“Y-yeah,” Sing lied. It was hard to form words when he was so intently trying to block out whatever Ash was crying out, to avoid the gaze of a clearly innocent man being sent to slaughter.

 

He made it worse by kneeling on the ground in response, his head bowed, both hands still clutching _that fucking amulet._  Like some sort of martyr.

 

The last straw was when he prostrated himself before Sing, his forehead touching hard rock.

 

“Please take care of him.”

 

 _“No!”_ the deafening wail of the injured Lynx finally cut through the white noise of his mind, pulling his attention towards him. He wished he didn’t.

 

Ash Lynx looked a right mess, his face wrecked with both blood and tears, his previously cold expression now something more lost and afraid.

 

And desperate.

 

Incredibly, utterly desperate. Raw and unhinged.

 

“Don’t touch him! He’s done nothing wrong! Please!”

 

“Ash-”

 

“I’ll do anything! I’m already taking out the people hunting down Shorter! You can shoot me if you want to! Please _please_ just don’t hurt him-”

 

“Aslan-”

 

“ _Eiji!_ ”

 

“ _I love you Aslan,_ ” Okumura’s head was still bowed, still against the cold metal of Sing’s gun. His breath came out in shudders, body trembling, and very obviously in tears. “My soul will always be with you. I’m-- I pray that we’ll meet again in the next life, under better circumstances.”

 

Sing struggled to control the rise of bile in his throat as Ash proceeded to shatter, completely breaking down.

 

“Nonononono don’t shoot him don’t hurt him please pleasepleaseImbeggingyou-”

 

There was persistent ringing in Sing’s ears, and it wasn’t even because of the pained howls from Ash.

 

This was undoubtedly, objectively, the worst fucking thing Sing has ever experienced in his entire career-- and he’d seen some real bad shit.

 

Ash was right. The scream he let out as Sing pulled the trigger will haunt him for the rest of his life.

 

\---

 

 

 

Ash’s revolver and Okumura’s protection charm sat impossibly heavy in his makeshift evidence bag, soaked in the weight of his sins.

 

The ground beneath his feet rumbled with yet another passing.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

**NEW YORK, USA**

 

 

“I want to see Lee Wang Lung.”

 

“Unfortunately that will not be possible-- he’s currently-- _a-ah s-s-sir please put the gun away-_ ”

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

He tossed the evidence bag onto the pretentiously large mahogany table, the gun and amulet skidding out, their owners’ blood already dried.

 

“I took out both Okumura _and_ Lynx,” Sing spat, his hands cold and clammy. “Now you give Shorter immunity.”

 

“That won’t be necessary.”

 

Sing gaped at the familiar lilt of the voice coming from behind the large plush chair.

 

“Moon moon?” Sing felt even more light headed when the chair turned around, the man in its seat confirming his suspicions. He looked impeccable in his suit, even with sizeable eyebags and one arm in a cast.

 

His free hand picked up Okumura’s amulet by its cheap drawstrings, the gaudy bright cloth worn and well-loved. The sunset filtering through the window blinds only highlighted the fraying edges, the darkened stains at the corner.

 

He knew his face had betrayed him when Yut Lung’s eyes softened, the expression foreign on his usually snarky self.

 

The amulet charm was placed back next to the Wesson and Smith.

 

“You opened the files on the pen drive before asking didn’t you?”

 

“I didn’t!” he didn’t mean to scream in reply, but the past few days had been hell to sleep through. Some things just kept replaying in his mind without his permission. “My conscience is _crystal fucking clear_.”

 

If Yut Lung suspected something, he didn’t say it, merely outstretching one hand, prompting Sing to give him said pendrive.

 

“Didn’t you say not to open it unless your brothers were after my ass?” he went around the table to give Yut Lung the pendrive, who then plugged it into the desktop computer to open its files. A command prompt popped up as Yut Lung tried to access it. “You’re opening the leverage on _Wang Lung’s_ computer?”

 

“ _My_ computer,” Yut Lung corrected, his agile fingers typing in the password. “My building. My company. I told you-- I would talk to Wang Lung and take care of it.”

 

“What-”

 

“I took him out the same way he took out my mother-- with a gun to his head. He’s dead. All my brothers are dead. All of their associates are also dead,” the folders popped up, bright lettering on the large computer screen. Yut Lung heaved a sigh. “The leverage is useless now- hey- don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t responsible for all their deaths, but perhaps that was for the best.”

 

“Did I-” Sing felt all the blood leave his veins, his hands shaking as he spared another glance to the protection charm, innocently sitting on the side of the weapon handle. “Did I take out Okumura for absolute _fuck all-”_

 

“If you’re like this, you probably shouldn’t read these files.”

 

“No,” the gun and amulet charm cast long shadows as the sun set, the darkness starting to loom. “I need to know the truth.”

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

“Oh god, _oh my fucking god-_ ”

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t expect your forgiveness-”

 

“I don’t think I can forgive you. I don’t think I ever will. But I- I’m not leaving you to work out this mess by yourself.”

 

“...Thank you Sing.”

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

_Aslan Jade Callenreese was no King of the Underworld. If anything, he was the most pitiful, most miserable Persephone, waiting for Spring._

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

**LOS ANGELES, USA**

 

 

“You need me to pass _what?_ ”

 

“You’re the only one I can trust. You’re the only one who knows. Not even Yut Lung knows,” his hands gripped the edges of the brown paper packaging, its contents light but burden heavy. “I don’t know where the rest of his gang fled to. But you would, right?”

 

“Sing, lil’ bro-” cigarette smoke blurred his shades, the ashes littered the dirty alleyway floor. “Your big ass heart ain’t right for this job I tell ya.”

 

_“Big bro-”_

 

“Don’t break out the Canto on me man,” purple hair shifted with the light Californian breeze, the black roots starting to show. “They’ll ask questions. They’ll try to take revenge. I ain’t putting you through that, not when I know the truth-- which, by the way, is getting you a surprise punch sometime in the near future, you absolute fucking dumbass.”

 

“I know I fucked up okay? I’m owning up to my mistakes right now,” he raised the box for emphasis, the last remnant of the most exclusive mercenary in the world residing within. “I don’t half-ass these things.”

 

“Half-ass? Hah! You’re the definition of half-assery until I say so,” another puff of smoke blurred his vision, another shake of the cigarette making more ashes fall. “Next time you try to shoot someone, don’t come crying to me asking if I can bring them back to life right after. I can only do so much sometimes.”

 

“You mean-” _did he dare to hope-_

 

“He’s tougher than he looks. And you know how hard it is to kill the other one. They’re both okay,” a smirk painted his features, shades glinting in the setting sun. This was definitely the man he swore to follow without question, the man he’d trust with his life.

 

Suddenly the box didn’t seem so heavy after all.

 

 

 

\---

  
  
  
  
  


_“Where?”_

 

_“Heaven of course.”_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_\---_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_“Then you must be Asian Jesus.”_

 

_“I mean, Buddhism is a thing-- guiding them folks into the next life after death and all-”_

 

_“Bro.”_

 

_“No use lookin’ at me like that my dude. I ain’t gonna tell you any more than what I’ve just said. Let the dead rest in peace.”_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\---

 

**3 YEARS LATER, NEW YORK, USA**

 

“When Nadia told you to find a nice person to settle down with-” Shorter scoffed, but Sing knew there were teary eyes behind those shades, his hands carefully fixing his tie. “She certainly did not have Lee Yut Lung in mind.”

 

“You’re right,” Sing beamed, looking down to his polished dress shoes, then back at the pretentious ring that only his fiance could have picked out. “He’s better than what she had in mind. Nadia adores him-- keeps giving him presents and feeding him way too much.”

 

“Yeah yeah keep on smiling loverboy,” Shorter finished fixing his silk tie with a final playful pat to the chest, Sing’s heart swelling ten sizes too huge at how _proud of him_ he looked.

 

“Speaking of presents,” Shorter hummed, fishing out a small photograph from his pocket. “Here’s one from a long ways away.”

 

Sing gingerly took the glossy piece of paper, blinking at the silhouette of an infant playing with the long strands of their parent’s hair, their faces way too underexposed against dawn’s light to see anything.

 

“Thanks?” his fingers idly tracing the cursive message in the bottom corner. “Their handwriting’s nice, but whoever took the picture is shit at photography.”

 

Shorter laughed, lifting his shades to wink at him.

 

“That’s kind of ironic, considering how his husband’s the photographer in the relationship.”

 

\---

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

**???, JAPAN**

 

_“How’s this?”_

 

_“Look baby, I spend thousands on a DSLR and it becomes a dollar store camera in your dada’s hands.”_

 

_“Eiji!”_

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

\---

  


 

_Congratulations on your wedding._

_We wish you the same everlasting Spring you’ve gifted to us._

  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I wrote all of that just because I wanted write those last two sentences? welp  
> Also, with how often I had g**gle maps out, my relatives now think I want to tour the whole of Europe w e l p
> 
>  
> 
> Here's the real epilogue:  
> Eiji’s baby sister, slapping the boxes containing the same omamori she gave to Eiji: _“These bad boys can fit so much love and hope for you and your soulmate's future.”_  
>  Ash, with his Eiji-loving heart fuller than his 90 million bank account, trying to replace the omamori Eiji lost: _“I’ll take all of th_


End file.
